


Hard Listening

by kibasniper



Category: Deltarune (Video Game)
Genre: Bonding, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Good Parent Rouxls Kaard, Music, Pre-Canon, Rouxls Ruleseth Zine, Zine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 11:25:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18467983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kibasniper/pseuds/kibasniper
Summary: While working on his puzzles, Rouxls finds himself interrupted by Lancer and his MP3s.





	Hard Listening

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for Rouxls Ruleseth: A Rouxls Kaard fanzine. Proceeds have gone to Oceana. Thank you very much for having me!

The call of “Lesser Dad” spikes his irritation. Rouxls grumbles, digging his forefinger into his temple as footsteps echo in the corridor. Being interrupted is not what he needs right now, and he tries focusing on his personal puzzle making guidebook, ignoring the stomping steps coming closer.

“Lesser Dad! Lesser Dad!” Lancer scampers into his shop, his tongue sticking out as always. He smacks his hands on Rouxls’ desk, sending a RouxlsRoux toppling off. Snatching a wriggly worm from the sauce, Lancer almost pockets it when Rouxls snatches it away and mumbles that he will clean the mess later.

“Hey, Lesser Dad! I’ve got something for you! Guess what it is!” Lancer shouts, his piercing voice ringing in Rouxls’ head.

“Bother me not,” he snaps, flicking the worm out the door. “Thine problems are none of mine concern. I needn’t be attackest by your Worste Queries at the striketh of hither midnight.”

Lancer chuckles and climbs on his desk. He plops down next to the Duke of Puzzles and holds out a small, shiny device. Rouxls shoots one glance at it, his impatience rising as Lancer shakes it in front of his face.

“Thine MP3s are a Plague uponeth mine soul. Bitter and blacketh like the shadows crawling out from a putrid alleyway do they maketh me.” He jerks his attention back to his guide and snatches a quill pen sitting in a bottle of ink. Underlining a few sentences and sketching a button design, Rouxls grumbles under his breath.

He wills himself to keep working as Lancer groans. The King had asked Rouxls to create new puzzles by morning in case any perilous Lightners or sympathizers invaded the castle. Keeping them at bay with merciless, unsolvable puzzles of fine trickery would give Rouxls all the glory he needed. The prestige given to him by defeating enemies in mental contests made his lips stretch into a sneer. All he needed to do was add a few more spikes, boxes, and buttons fitted throughout the castle, and he would ensnare anyone foolish enough to attack the King’s domain.

Rouxls dips his pen back into his ink and hesitates. He hears Lancer’s sigh sag with misery. Biting his lip, Rouxls straightens his back and peers over to the slouching prince. 

Lancer’s chin dips to his chest. He fiddles with his earbuds and sweeps his gaze to the floor, beginning to ease himself off the desk.

Rolling his wrist, Rouxls offers his hand to Lancer. The young prince jerks his head up, curiosity and hope mingling in his eyes. Rouxls gestures for Lancer to give him an earbud, and while giggling, Lancer drops one into his palm with a smile that stretches into his cheeks.

“You’re gonna love this remix. I think it’s my best one ever until I make my next jam,” he says, glowing like the moon as Rouxls sets the earbud in place.

“Oh, just hurryeth up. Mine time is more precious than gold, silver, and-!”

Lancer presses play and shoves Rouxls into a world of discord. He’s assaulted with a cacophony of noise blasting in his ear and spearing through his brain. Synthesizers smash with a boosted bass. The drumming sounds like shockwaves rumbling throughout the kingdom. Guitar riffs clash with airhorns and splits his head open as if someone repeatedly slammed his face against concrete. Rouxls’ mouth rips open in a silent scream, all sounds replaced by the madness booming in his ear. His eyes bulge out of his skull, and he shoots to his feet, tearing out a few tresses of his hair when he clutches his pounding head.

“Do you like it? I call it ‘Honking Good Time: Silly Boy Mix Mach 2!’” Lancer plucks out Rouxls’ earbud and hugs his MP3 player to his chest. He gazes at Rouxls like a cherub, rocking back and forth with his tongue sticking out.

Rubbing his ear, Rouxls inspects his hand and finds no blood. He snaps his fingers by his ear, thankful to realize he can still hear. Stumbling back into his chair, he sucks down a few calming breaths. A shrill trill reverberates in his head, muting Lancer gushing about his work, and Rouxls drags himself to sit upright as if moving in a lucid dream.

“Sooo? I think it’s my best work yet!” Lancer leans closer and grabs his shoulder, bliss twinkling in his eyes like bright stars.

“‘Twas...Music.” Rouxls swallows and cups his throbbing ear. “Yes. ‘Twas Music.”

Lancer laughs and shoots to his feet. Throwing his arms around Rouxls, he shouts, “Aw, thanks, Lesser Dad! The entire kingdom’s gonna love this song! Maybe Dad will make it the new anthem of the Dark World!” He gasps and claps his round cheeks. “Oh, I gotta write some lyrics now!”

“Indeed he mayeth, little Worm,” Rouxls mumbles, closing his eyes. He pats Lancer’s head, the prince’s joy infectious enough for him to briefly forget about his aching head.

Lancer leaps away and sticks his earbuds back in place. Skipping out the door, he promises to keep working on music for them to listen to together and guffaws. Rouxls groans as he dashes off into the castle, sinking into his seat and shaking his head as Lancer’s footsteps fade.

He can never truly be mad at Lancer even when he feels like his exasperation will finally blow. Everyone in the castle knows about Lancer’s loneliness and how his father will rid himself of the prince, too, if he’s ever displeased. Lancer’s innocence refreshes the cruelty permeating throughout the halls of the shadowy castle, allowing Rouxls a few moments of peace from slaving over puzzles, and even his tiny ward’s playful tricks endear him to Rouxls regardless of his utter detestation of the title Lancer insists on calling him.

Rouxls sighs. Fixing his posture, he returns to his work with a small grin etched on his face. Perhaps when he’s finished with his work, he’ll seek Lancer out and help write some lyrics.


End file.
